By My Uterus Betrayed!

[crowdog66]

The short of it: Perimenopause bites.


Perimenopause, for those of you who aren't familiar with the term, is the number of years leading up to menopause when the periods start to become irregular and PMS sometimes becomes more severe. In my case, both have been occuring. I'm 39, and my mother hit menopause at 42, so this doesn't exactly come as a surprise.

However, what happened today certainly did.

Picture little ole me at the bank, in the lineup to get to a teller. Picture me, having put on a clean pad only an hour or so before, anticipating continued full coverage for at least the next 45 minutes, by which time I'd be safely home.

Picture me feeling a thick, balloon-like mass slowly squeezing its way out of my vagina.

Me, internally: "What the...? I've never felt anything quite like THAT before. Must just be a large clot -- there's been more and more clotting these past few months. Oh, well."

Squeeeeeeeeeeezzzzze.

*POP!*

Me, internally: "Pop?"

My pad: *a silent scream of protest*

Blood: "Gush!" (flowing down my legs in runnels I can actually as I stand in line... in public... in khaki pants.)

Me, internally: "Oh, fuck!"

So I cut out of the line, trying to pull my top as far down my back as I can (the one day I don't wear a long shirt over top, of course!) and scuttle across the street to the restaurant on the corner, where a quick check in the bathroom reveals the worst: the maxi-pad with wings is soaked from one end to the other, so completely saturated that the plastic bottom is weeping blood. The inside and back of my thighs look like I've just been to visit an abattoir, and --

Ready for it?

I had no extra pad. After all, I was only going to be out for a couple of hours, right? And I NEVER flow that heavily. Right?

GNRSH!

I cleaned up the toilet seat, which had taken a couple of more splatters from the continuing uterine bleed-out as well as the excess on my legs, and considered my options. Fortunately, the back of my pants only showed a couple of streaks of blood -- but naturally that was still too much for my tastes. I HAD to finish my business at the bank. I could have called George to bring me a clean pair of pants and change of underwear (you can only imagine the state that was in), but George was busy pencilling the next Captain Canuck and I really didn't want to pull him away from it.

So I waited until the flood appeared to have stopped, then used the stand-by that every girl has used at some point in their lives: good old toilet paper. By keeping my low-slung, large leather purse shifted around back, and keeping my back against things as much as possible, I was able to go to the bank, get on the bus (which thankfully was empty) and get home without anyone noticing that anything was wrong. Well, that's what I tell myself, anyway, for the sake of my own pride.

And yesterday I spent many hours in bed, cramping and weeping. Missed an excellent chat with MR that I was really looking forward to because of it.

I hate my uterus right now.

Thanks for listening.

Comments

[eastpath.livejournal.com]

Oh, my goodness. I'd have just died right there.... *HUGS* Our bodies are always out to get us when we get older.... they are punishing us for the years of abuse we put them through when we were in our early 20's.

*thinks* I'm in a whole lotta trouble in the next several years.... o_O

I hope you feel better now.... at least you had a bathroom to run too... I'd have just burst into tears or something.... gahhh

Love to you!